Dream
by YYHfan
Summary: Daxter's a regular school boy! Yay! We all love seeing him in that blazer... But what happens when a monster comes and kidnaps our favorite redhead? Mostly AU, implied yaoi.
1. The White Thing

ok ok PLEAAASE understand this is a Jak and Daxter fanfiction! XD It's supposed to take place about the time of the second game, since i'm only half way done with said game. XD

I don't know what to call this, so the name is only temerary. if you have any better thoughts please tell me! CB

uh let's see... J&D do not belong to me. XD if they did there would be major yaoiness going on. XP WOOOOOO anywhoo... for the most part of this fic it's AU (alternet universe). if you don't understand what i mean then you'll just have to read it. XD

anyway, enjoy! CB and please review! X3

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"Daxter."

The cooing made him wrinkle his nose.

"C'mon, buddy..."

Burrying his head deeper into his folded arms, he half-heartedly tried to block out the mews.

"DAXTER WAKE THE HELL UP!"

"GNA!" The snarl itself seemed to throw the boy out of his seat. Groaning he rubbed his head and looked about.

The faces of the other students were all on him. Their wrinkled noses and hurtful eyes directed toward him. He could hear whispers and snickers throughout the room.

Suddenly a giant grin burst forth from his mouth. Forcing a laugh through his tight throat, he stood and dusted himself off. He looked toward the front of the room, where the tiny teacher stood...

Stood three feet high, that is. Yes, Daxter swore the man was the smallest human alive. Standing at a wooping 3' 8", the man was smaller then everyone in the entire school. Even the students. And Dax swore he wore shoes with platforms on the bottom.

"Well, fo'give me, Short-Stuff, but it's hard ta listen ta y'r voice droning on 'bout absolutely nuthin for hours on end." Sitting back into his seat, Daxter lean back and sighed. "I mean, it's like talking ta a wall!" he explained in faked pity. He was obviously, once again, jumping on the fact the man was small.

Suddenly the man was next to him. Before Daxter could even howl, the bearded old man had taken hold of his ear and drug him out of his seat, through the ally of students, and to the other side of the room, almost throwing him through the door and slamming it so hard he felt the wind and heard the glass window rattle.

"STAND!" Daxter's body went rigid as his head tried to delve into his shoulder like a turtle. He possitioned himself in front of the door just so, so that the old teacher could see the back of his head in the window. This was how Daxter was forced to remain there (and not skip the class).

------------------

He leaned his full weight against the door lazily. Even his head found a place to rest in the tiny crook where the glass met wood.

Heh. Wood. Such a funny word.

Daxter's eyes betrayed him before he could finish the thought. His last sight, being the far wall, faded from his vision and he slept, standing against the door, listening to the muffled sound of the teacher's drones and the snickering directed towards him.

Falling...

CRASH. Daxter groaned and recoiled into himself, pulling his head to his chest as his hands babied the new wound on it's back side. He glanced around, dazed. He was sitting on the floor. Again. He furrowed his brow and looked questionably at the teacher, who stood leaning against the open door, shaking his head. He made a ticking sound with his tounge.

"Daxter, Daxter, Daxter... When will you learn that I will never, _never_, let you sleep while your time belongs to _me_?"

Then he realized what he meant. He'd fallen asleep against the door again.

Daxter's head shrank as he pulled his thin shoulders upward into a shrug. The same wide grin spread on his face like acid.

"I told y' before, Thumbalina, y' sound like a friggin robot in here!" Of course that remark only ended in him with a red mark across his cheek. "Nag, nag, nag... y'r worse than a wo--" BAM. Another red mark, on the other side, and small claw marks dug into it. While it had been the teacher who'd hit him first, after his last remark it was a girl who'd beaten him.

Daxter sighed in pain and fell back onto the floor. That's when the bell rang. Daxter decided in a split second to stand (or lay) his ground. Although it didn't take half as long before he realised he'd made the wrong choice as unforgiving feet trampled over him in places he hadn't realised could be trampled.

It was over as quickly as it had come, and there were only three people left in the room. The teacher, himself, and a boy named Daniel. The boy shook his head, walking over to a groaning Daxter. He leaned over and smiled.

"Geez, Dax! When are you gunna learn to sleep at _home_?"

Daxter rolled his eyes and pushed himself from the ground. He dusted off the light tan blazer and wrinkled white shirt undernieth. Straightening his loose tie, he struck a pose.

"Puh-leez! The Dax-man gets no slumber! He is needed, day and night, for his blazing man-hood to sooth the coo's from the lady-folk, t--"

"Daxter..."

The small man at the desk rubbed his temple as he finally restorted to pleading.

"Yeah sh--"

"GET OUT!"

Daniel had thrown Daxter's bag at the boy and they'd raced out together, laughing all the way. Further down the hall they stopped. Daniel, panting, smiled at his partner in crime.

"Hey, I've got a test to make up. I'll see you tomorrow, 'k?"

Daxter forced his grin into place.

"Yeah, sure."

He watched his friend, his only friend, jog down the hallway and take a left instead of a right. To another class instead of home for the day. Which meant Daxter would be walking home alone. Which meant he was fair bait.

--------------------

Daxter trudged down the hallway. Alone. He was alone. The way he felt all the time. Even with Daniel. But why? They were best friends, right?

But... there wasn't something there that should have been. His name wasn't quite right. His face not quite right. That thing. It should have been there... But it wasn't.

"Honey!"

Daxter raised his head at the familiar voice. His eyes came to rest on another teacher. A woman. A blonde.

She waved enthusiactically to him from a small ways down the corrador. He walked to her, smiling. Not his usual grin, but something more sincere.

"Hey Mrs--"

"Honey! I told you, when it's not school hours you can call me Tess!"

Daxter's smile widened. Sometimes he was almost sure she was hitting on him.

"Yeah, but that's just weird..."

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After speaking with the woman for a few short minutes, he wondered out of the empty halls and out into the dimly lit world outside the flourecent bulbs and brick walls. Daxter took a deep breath and sighed deeply. The air wasn't much better out here, more smoggy even, but at least it was fresh instead of stale. He looked about the empty school yard, making sure he was alone, before he continued.

One block. Two blocks. Two and a half...

There.

Daxter spun his head around, eyes wide. He'd heard them. The footsteps. Syncing themselves with his own. He'd grown accustomed to listening for them.

Nobody. Not a soul was on the deserted city street with him. Not a single car passed. Not a dog that barked. Not a bird that chirped.

Why did it have to be so damn quiet?

Daxter turned around and stalked furthur down the block, cursing himself for his paranoia.

There.

Daxter forced himself to keep walking as he heard the footsteps begin again. He waited until they came to a small antique shop with one-way glass windows. He looked hard into the glass's reflection. But nobody was there. He glanced behind him as he walked. Not a soul. Why was it so quiet?

Had he done something wrong? Made some mistake? Why was everything like this?

He found himself asking that question over and over. But not just about this scenario. He couldn't explain it, but nothing seemed right. Ever.

Pat pat pat.

Finally he made a decision. Instead of walking home the way he usually did, he would double back to the school. Maybe he would catch Daniel getting out. Or he could at least catch a ride with Mrs. Tess.

Another block. They'd rounded back. Only two and a half more blocks.

Two.

Daxter clutched the lone book in his arms tightly. His oversized backpack hung over his shoulder acting only as dead weight. He leaned into his steps, forcing his feet to move faster, but not running. Not jogging. A quick pace. Speed walking, if you will.

Suddenly the boy stopped. They were gone. The other steps had haulted.

Daxter slowly looked about him, finally allowing himself to breath. Another step.

"GHH--"

The pain spasmed through his body when it hit, then returned to his back, where it had hit.

Something hard, hard and sharp, came into contact with his spine, just under his shoulder blades. He was sprawled on the ground just under ten feet away before he could even yelp.

Daxter's body trembled from the sudden contact. He forced air back into his lungs, ignoring the pain. What had happened? Nothing like that had ever hit him before. It was like being hit by a car!

Daxter forced his pained and teary eyes open. There was no car. Only a body.

A huge body. Gigantic. Standing, crouched, mere feet away.

Daxter narrowed his eyes, trying to see the shadowed figure.

White.

White hair.

Daxter pushed himself up. Forcing his legs to stay between him and the ground. He fumbled, almost falling backward. He looked again to where it had been.

No.

It wasn't there.

He glanced around, frantically, trying to pinpoint the beast. But it wasn't there. Had it ever been there?

Then he gasped as he heard a breathful cackle behind him. Slowly he turned, not wanting to see it. Not wanting it to be there.

But it was.

With white tressles flung about it's pale face, it stared at him hungrily with narrowed black eyes. Nothing but black. No white or color at all. Just deep, dark pools of nothingness, seeming to want to suck him into the abiss.

It lunged.

Daxter swung his body to the right and watched as the long, ebony claws melted through his top, ripping the front apart. Jumping away from the beast, he clung to his shirt. In horror he saw behind his eyes what those monsterous nails could do to his flesh.

And he ran. As fast as he could, as far as he could. Toward the school. It was closer. And people were there. They were still there weren't they? They had to be. If they weren't...

Suddenly the white thing was in front of him again. Without thinking, Daxter projected the heavy bag from his shoulder, which he'd previously forgotten, into the face of the thing. The cloth caught on one of it's horns and it hissed violently as it tugged on the orange bag.

With his distraction firmly in place, Daxter whipped around the ashen figure and sprinted as fast as he could.

One block.

Only one more to go.

Then it hit him. Literally.

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Daniel sighed. Trudging down the hall, he glanced through windows and doors, into dark rooms or bright, grey sunlight.

Red.

He looked back to the window. There.

He squinted and pressed his face close to the blurry glass. A small red dot bobbed around farther down the street. Soon the pockmark was close enough to dicern and he saw the thin form of Daxter, with his bright crimson spikes, racing toward the fenced in brick building.

But something was wrong. He looked terrified. Was he being chased again? It wasn't an odd occurance for the red-head to get harassed. But he looked different this time. Like he was running from Freddie Kreuger himself!

Then he saw it.

He squinted again. He almost missed it against the white pavement. It moved so fast, using both arms and legs to propel itself forward like an animal.

As the hunter and it's prey closed in on the school yard Daniel was jerked out of his trance by a familiar voice.

"Danny! What are you looking at?" He looked over to see Mrs. Tess, as Dax called her, walking briskly toward him. Her smile fell when she saw his face. "What's wrong?"

Daniel looked back out the window. It had only taken a split second for him to look away, but in that second Daxter was suddenly on the ground. But the White Thing was gone.

No...

It wasn't gone, just out of sight.

Daniel heard Mrs. Tess' sharp intake of air and the click of her heels as she suddenly raced away. She'd seen it to. So he wasn't imagining it. Daxter was halfway out of a manhole and clawing to free himself from whatever it was that was pulling him under. Daniel watched in horror as in just a few seconds Daxter's small frame and bright hair disapeared into the darkness of the black hole in the middle of the street.

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ok was this confusing to anyone else? Oo lol well, please review! and if too many people say it's confusing I'll change the writing style. But I think it's kind of unique. XP maybe i'm just being wierd... OH WELL. XD


	2. And The Pain Came

ok! yay! second chapter! XD lol just like before, I know it's kind of confusing. but it's supposed to be more like thoughts than sentances (and i don't know about you, but i don't think in sentaces XD). also i dont own them...TT.TT

also, to answer a couple questions, Jak WILL come into the story. XD don't worry about that. also, Daxter, right now, is in his Human form. CB if you have any other questions feel free to ask away! X3

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CH. 2 - And the Pain Came

Numb. Pain. Dark.

Ow.

Those were the only thoughts that could penetrate his throbbing mind as Daxter moaned. His eyes stung as he pried them open. It felt as though a thousand needles were bombarding each one.

But soon his eyes adjusted to the pain and he blinked around the baren room where he lay. He tried to move his arm but had to stifle a cry when a severe sorness enveloped his shoulder.

It seemed like forever until he was finally able to lift himself into a sitting possition, leaning against the dirty wall. He studdied the room as he waited for the pain to subside.

It was a small room. Huge grey bricks formed the walls, cieling, and floor. A single large, metal door stood intimidatingly at the far end of the room, tucked into a damp corner. Looking down on his legs, Daxter saw he sat upon a pile of dingy, disfigured old mattresses. A look of digust glued itself to his face as he realised he'd been laying on those for who knows how long. They were dirty, lumpy, damp, and just HAD to be seeping with itsy bisty tinsy winsy teeny tiny creepy crawlies that he didn't even WANT to think about!

Tearing his eyes to the top of the room, he saw said room was lit by a single, small, and very dim light bulb that hung from a frail old chain. Something about this room reminded him of something. But what? Why was it about this disgusting, cave-like room that made it almost... not so bad?

Suddenly a loud crank echoed in the tomb. Daxter's eyes flew, wide, to the monsterous door looming on the other side of the room. Then the memories of the White Beast came back to him. His lips quivered as icy air filled his lungs and he held his breath. He waited for the door to open and for the creature to enter, like the murderer from a horror movie, and tear him apart.

But nothing happened.

Daxter slowly released the dank breath he'd been holding, but his eyes stayed glued to the door. For a moment he almost thought it wouldn't open.

But it did.

---------------

The two stared on helplessly as the men and women worked. They almost had faces, but not quite. Memories of faces, more or less.

"Do you think he's alright?" she asked.

The small man shook his head. "I don't know."

"He's with--" What was that? "--He won't hurt him, will he?"

He shook his head again. "I don't know."

She was desprate. "He's done it before! He won't hurt him this time!"

He was silent.

She stared at him, with tears in her eyes. But she wouldn't cry. She couldn't. She had to be strong. For him. For everyone.

"...They'll be ok," she reassured him. But more herself. She turned back to the faceless people. "He'll go back to normal. He'll come back. He'll come home. They'll be ok."

But he was silent.

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A suspension of disbelief. That's what his mother called it when she read a book or watched a movie she enjoyed. While you're watching it it's almost like it's real, even though you know it's not. But this feeling, this tearing, sickening lump in his stomache, was just the opposite.

As the White Thing took a heavy step into the scantly lit room, he knew this was real. But it almost seemed... not so. Like, it wasn't right. This wouldn't be happening. But it was. It was there, the White Thing. Right there! Not three yards away! A few steps and--

It turned it's head, slowly, and looked at him with the same black, lifeless eyes that had nearly hynotised him before. It's pale hair fell in clumps around it's face, framing it like spider webs.

So pale, Daxter realised, he was so pale. So white. Was he dead? But he was moving. Zombie? Could be. Monster? Definately.

The red-head slowly pulled his feet below him. He would be standing when he died, or at least when he tried to make a break for it.

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The Thing watched as he slowly got his shaky feet under him and pushed off the make-shift nest. He used the wall for support. He was thin. Too thin. Too thin to eat. Was it hungry? Starving. But not that way. Not for food. It was something else. But it burned.

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He couldn't help it. Daxter knew better than to look people in eye. But... he couldn't stop himself. Like, it was something to do. The thing to do. The right thing. Was it?

The White Thing was still staring at him for a long while, and he stared back, blanky. Nothing was exchanged in their faces, in their eyes. Nothing. Nothing but everything. Every single thing. Every nothing.

Suddenly it turned it's body toward him. Daxter's breath stalled in his throat. It's foot moved. Closer. It stepped slowly toward him.

Daxter tried to take a step back and realised he was already pressed up against the wall.

Another heavy step.

Thump. Thump.

He was wearing boots. Heavy boots. The big black ones the bad guy always wore.

But the good guys wore them too. Was that wierd?

Strange?

Maybe. Who knows. But it shows how close they are.

Good and bad.

Why was he thinking about this?

He looked so familiar, the White Thing did.

But why? That was stupid. He was just another monster.

Right?

Why was it hard to call it a monster? Because it looked human? Almost. But someting else...

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It took another step. And another. Why was it moving so slow? Was he scared? No. Never scared. Only angry. Furious. Rage. Hating. Murdering.

The small red-head in front of him tried in vain to disappear into the corner. Into the darkness. But that wouldn't have helped. It could smell him.

There.

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Daxter didn't have time to breath as a clawed hand shot out and took a firm, painful hold on his arm, yanking him away from his hiding place, and throwing him against the opposite wall. He whined as he pulled himself away from the floor again, but his lungs disconinuted their work as soon as he saw the White Thing standing over him again.

So big.

Was it this big before?

Why did he feel so small?

He wasn't always this small, was he?

Daxter tried again to merge with the bricks as he gazed at the beast standing over him. He felt like a small animal. A cornered mouse, almost.

His predicament worsened as the thing knelt in front of him, to be closer to his level. It was croutched like it was about to pounce. But it didn't need to pounce. Daxter was right there. He'd always been right there. Cornered. Like an animal.

And this tiem he couldn't joke his way into a few seconds of freedom.

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Like he wasn't there. It's eyes were playing ticks on it. Were they?

It reached out a pale hand. To touch him. To make sure. It had to make sure...

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His eyes clamped shut as he trembloed in fear. But his body went rigid when the scalding hand came into contact with his shoulder. He didn't move as the it ventured down, then back up his arm. Didn't move as it left goosebumps across his collarbone, his whole body. He was terrified. What was it doing? Trying to find the most painful place to gorge him?

Daxter's eyes flew wide open as he felt hot breath on his ear. The thing was smelling him. Sniffing. It's breath tickled his skin and he felt his face grow hot. Nobody ever got that close to him. Nobody.

It was acting like an animal. What kind? Not sure. Dog? No. Bear? Worse. Lion? Not close enough. What was it? Don't know.

Then he realised he didn't care.

The White Thing moved around him, his chest, his hair, smelling him. Just sniffing.

Daxter tried to swallow the choking lump in his throat. They were both animals. Animals. But just the opposite. Different kinds. The worst kind of different.

Polar opposites.

The only thing they had in common was they weren't human. Not anymore. Never would be again.

Animals. And one was the predator, the other the prey.

And It was obvious who played which role.

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Long red hair. Almost like the boy's. But different.

He glared at the people working. They weren't working hard enough. Going fast enough.

He hadn't missed yet. He wasn't about to now, because of them.

"It's late." He turned to see her standing nect to him. She had the same kind of hair.

He turned back to the faceless workers without a word.

"It's been two days."

Still nothing.

"Damn it, go to bed --" Who?

"Not yet."

"What?"

"We're almost there. I can feel it."

It was her turn to be silent.

"I've never been wrong before. I won't start now."

And they waited.

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Daxter stared at the cieling. He'd moved back to the mattresses. It was better than the floor.

The White Thing was there. Still. But not the same way.

It's head lay across his stomach as it curled into itself. Sleeping.

One of it's spiked ebony horns cut into his flesh. But he didn't care. It wasn't right. But that's the way it was.

He listened to the raspy even breaths that filled the small room. He was uncomfortable. But he stayed. For it. The Thing.

He'd tried to turn into a comfortable possition. But every time he moved an unconcious claw dug into his stomach. It obviously didn't want him leaving.

So he stayed.

He wasn't sure anymore that it would kill him. But it could. It might. No, would. But later. He was safe for now. Maybe.

So familiar...

The White Thing clung to him. Like a child, almost. Scared. Alone.

They were both alone.

Outcasts.

Maybe...

No. That was a stupid idea. Stupid!

Daxter's face never changed as the thoughts came and left his mind.His eyes stayed half closed. His mouth tight around his overbite.

So deep in thought, he didn't realise he was touching it.

Running his hand lightly over the thing's shoulder. It's back.

It was right, wasn't it?

The thing he always did.

No! Not always!

He didn't do it!

Never!

Right...?

Right!

It moved. Pulled itself closer to him. Why was it sleeping? It didn't see him as a threat. Of course. Could anyone?

He took a deep breath. The spike was no longer cutting into his ribs.

He rubbed it's shoulder again. It was relaxed. It had been tense earlier. Maybe that's why...

He did it to relax it. So it wouldn't hurt him. Yeah, that was it.

But somehow, it wasn't. The equation was missing something. Something pbvious. There. That's what it was. That feeling...

So the answer was wrong. He had to find the answer. He was so close n--

Suddenly a loud growl filled his ears and the weight on him gone. Daxter looked over just in time to see the thing storm out of the room, throwing the door open so hard chips flew from the wall it hit.Suddenly a gunshot rang out in the tomb. Daxter's heart suddenly seemed to jump out of his chest and he raced to the door. He arrived there just in time to be pushed back in by a large man -- it was a man, right? -- in a red suit of armor. He wore a mask an held a large black gun. More of these machine-looking people were running just outside the door, yelling.

Monster?

Thing?

What were they saying?

Daxter couldn't quite make it out around the buzzing.

Suddenly the man pushing him back into the room put a gloved hand on his shoulder and squeezed so hard it hurt.

"Are -chzz- hur--chzt--" Daxter's brow frowned as he stared up questioningly at the person in front of him. What did they say?

"Are -chzzt- --ou h--chzz-k--t" What?

But scream suddenly shook the room. The red-man ran to the door as the blood-curtling echo seeped into their ears. Suddenly he pulled his gun to his shoulder. He was going to shoot something.

The White Thing.

Daxter couldn't stop himself as he ran to the man and pulled on his arm. "What are you doing!" he found himself shouting.

"Git-chzt--ack!" the red man shouted. His hand left the trigger momentarily as he backhanded the boy hard across the face. The next thing Daxter knew, he was lying, dizzy and in pain, on the floor as a loud crack issued behind him. He covered his ears and clamped his eyes hard. Why was this happening?

What did he do?

Why did every day end like this?

He didn't want this!

He never asked for this!

He didn't want to be here!

This stupid city!

This dirty, haggard, smelly, nasty, evil, evil, EVIL CITY!

And suddenly the most painful sence of realisation crushed the thoughts of the boy who knelt on the cold floor, cowering from the truth.

And then it all went black.

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BWAHAHA! XD can you guess what's happening? XP please review! i'll love you forrrreeevvverrr! X3


	3. Never Good Enough

CH.3 Never Good Enough

First the pain came. Then the light. Then the voices. Then finally the whole thoughts.

He peeled his aching eyes open but only saw blurs of color against the bright background. He heard his name, a couple "Are you alright?"'s, and quite a few "Answer us!"'s, but he didn't answer them. For a moment he wondered where that feeling had gone, the one he'd had before. But the fleeting thought left before it even registered.

A moment later he was pulled into a sitting position as someone patted his back harshly. He coughed and pushed the body away pathetically.

"M'a fine..." he muttered, closing his eyes and rubbing them. When he looked around again the blurs had become watery, but discernible shapes.

There was Mr. Shorty, from class... Mrs. Tess... That girl that sat across from him in class... and--

"Danny-boy... 'Sup?" Daxter's voice echoed his dry throat. Suddenly another woman appeared, a red-head, with a glass.

"Drink it," she ordered. Daxter raised a brow but took the glass.

"Dominatrix..." he muttered inaudibly. But the woman still gave him a look as if she'd heard him. Daxter looked for a moment into the glass. It was water. Wasn't it? It looked murky. White murky. Like when his mom took ant-acids. Why were they giving him ant-acids?

"Drink it," the woman repeated, louder. Daxter rolled his eyes and raised the glass to his lips. But he wasn't in the mood for medicine.

He swallowed. But not the water.

He took the glass away and looked around. The faces softened. They'd fallen for it.

Suddenly Daniel's face broke into a grin. "Thank goodness you're ok, Dax! We were so worri--"

"Mmm..." Daxter eyes were glued to the white water in the glass he twirled around in his hands. It smelled funny.

Daniel's face fell. He tried again. "You were gone for awhile, we thou--"

The red-head's eyes stayed on the glass.

"...Dax?"

"C'mon, buddy..."

That same voice.

"Hey..."

Where was that coming from?

It wasn't in the room... was it?

"Dax, it's me--"

Who?

Who are you?

How do you know me?

...Do you know me?

"Daxter." He jumped as a hand fell on his shoulder. Looking up tiredly, he saw the small man looking at him intently. "Are you alright, boy?"

No. No, I'm not ok. I don't feel alright. I feel terrible. Lost. Not right.

But why? I'm here. I'm home. I'm alive. Away from that mon--

"Sure." Daxter flashed his almost-normal toothy grin. "I'm just fine." I'm not fine. "Just a little tired, 's all." So tired.

The man forced a small smile and nodded his head, standing straight and removing his hand from it's perch. The other's moved and Daxter worked his way onto his feet. Without another word, he placed the glass on the stand beside the bed and walked out of the hospital-like room.

----------

He stood staring for a long while at the black hole in front of him.

It wasn't threatening, not dangerous looking at all. And yet, the pale red stripes leading down into the darkness reminded the red-head of something he wanted to forget...

...because it made him remember.

But remember what? He wasn't sure. But he knew there was something there. Just behind his eyes, on the tip of his tongue. And that something had to do with the White Thing. The thing that had attacked him so fiercely. That had laid so close to him. That, at one point, had almost seemed so... so...

...Helpless? Hopeless?

With a sigh, Daxter turned and sulked down the street. Away from the hole. Away from the memories. The feelings.

In so long he had refused to allow himself to feel anything. He let small, poisonous leaks creep into his mask, but only enough for it to awaken and smile. But only smile.

This was ok, right? It was ok to feel this way... right?

----------

That night he didn't sleep. It didn't feel right. Too cold. Too lumpy. Too... lonely.

Daxter groaned and rolled over to glare at the ceiling. What, now he was thinking about SEX?!

No. Not that. Not quite. Something else. But it was still...

Not there. Not where it should be. Not... here.

Daxter hugged himself and pulled the covers closer to him. These strange thoughts were racing through his mind and he wasn't sure how to stop them. To make them go away.

...But...

...Did he _want_ them to go away...?

Yes! Of course he did! This whole thing was getting in the way of his life!

...Why does that word seem so distant, all of a sudden?

Life.

Life.

L-i-f-e.

Just a four letter word. It doesn't mean much.

So why was he getting so worked up over everything? All it had to do with was his life.

His life.

Life.

Back to that word again.

Why did he always come back to it? Was it important?

Life. The noun for live. Live.

L-i-v-e.

Live life.

Life... with...

"...you?" Daxter squinted his eyes. Had the White Thing said something to him? He must have. Didn't he? But what had he said? When had he said it? Why?

The boy shook his head violently and flipped himself onto his stomach, snapping his eyes shut and pulling his pillow over his head. Why were these thoughts coming to him? Why now?! He just wanted to go to sleep! Just sleep!

S-l-e-e-p!

Slumber!

Nighty-night!

Sleep!

Sleep...!

Sleep.

Sleep...

Slee... Sl... s... s...

----------

He was rambling again, Daniel was. Sometimes he was a complete bore. Especially when he talked about supposedly important issues. Things that bored Daxter. To tears.

He jumped when the bell rang. Daniel laughed and ran to his seat. Daxter laid his head on his crossed arms on his desk and sighed. Everybody seemed to find him funny, for one reason or another. Everybody but the White Thing. Everything but the White Thing. But could the White Thing laugh? Could it find something funny? Could it... _he_ even give a smile other than the venomous, toothy, monstrous grin he shot when they first met?

Within a few noisy minutes the small tormentor had made his way through the wooden porte and had taken his place upon his step stool. A quick glance at the lazing Daxter told him more than any question he could ask. Positioning his spectacles on his pug-nose, he opened the large textbook on the podium facing him and instructed the class to do the same. But the red-head gazed defyingly out the window.

"Good morning, everyone. We'll continue with our plant unit, so if you'll get out you packets from yesterday..."

And on the class went. But our red-head was untouched by the words that floated against his ears. Images of the mysterious white shadow entrapped his thoughts in such depth that no amount of murmurs could rouse him. A rather loud voice, however, could.

"_Daxter_," the voice hissed, "Would you _please_ pay attention?!"

The red-head shifted slightly, but didn't look at the man.

"Daxter, get out your homework."

"I don't have it."

"What was that?"

"I forgot it."

The professor was about to speak when another student interupted. "You _always _forget your stuff!" the boy chimed. The class erupted in laughter.

But Daxter remained quiet. He didn't notice Daniel watching him with sorrowful eyes from across the room. Nor did he notice the small man he spoke so quietly to do the same. He never noticed. He only noticed the terrible things they said. They things they did. Not so quietly, but louder, loud enough to catch his attention. But such subtlety of kindness eluded him.

"Alright, Daxter, then get out some paper. You can take notes and bring in your packet tomorrow."

"No."

"What?"

"No."

"Daxter, I think I'm being very lenient with you today." Only today? "I would appreciate it if you would do what I say." "Why should I? "Daxter are you listening?" No. "Daxter." You don't know me. "Daxter-" Why do you pretend to know what's best for me? "Daxter!" I won't let you treat me like this. "Daxter, this is very disappointing." I always disappoint you. "Do you hear me, young man?" I wish I didn't. "If you don't do as I say I--"

"You'll what?"

"Excuse me?"

"What, you'll beat me?" His voice filled with the acid that seeped from his every pour. "You'll flunk me? Tell my parents?" His blue eyes floated to where the man stood. "What can you do?"

The man's eyes narrowed with anger. He snorted. "I'm disappointed, Daxter. Here I thought you--"

"Oh _**shut up**!!!_" The boy suddenly slammed his palms on the desk, pushing himself away from his chair. "I'll just _never_ be good enough for you, will I?! You just can't accept that I'm _NEVER_ going to listen to you!!! I _hate_ you!! I _hate_ you _**ALL**!!!_"

The room fell into an astonished silence as the boy's awkward feet carried him quickly out the door, which he promptly slammed behind him. Daniel stood, awaiting any word to chase his friend.

"God, what's his problem?" A few muffled and crude comments echoed the room and the boy looked to his teacher. The man nodded solemnly an in a second Daniel was out of the room.

----------

Daxter's jaw clenched and ground his teeth as he stormed down the hallway. He watched his feet in their haste, making sure he tripped over nothing.

Who did that man think he was? His _father_?! He couldn't just order people around like that!!

He'd get his, the boy assured himself as he slithered down the empty hallways, he'd make sure of that himself! Even if he had t--

"_OOF!!_" The redhead's hands came up to catch his balance as he bounced off the wall he'd run into. But he was sure he'd been watching where he was going. Why would a wall—?

"He—" Daxter's words stopped as he looked up into the deep blue eyes that stared down at him inquisitively. After a moment he realized walls didn't have eyes, so he blinked and refocused his view. Realization dawned on him that he'd run into another _person_ as he recognized the tan skin and long face the eyes were set into. Just above a pointed chin sat two thin lips and an upturned nose, slightly on the wide side. Shocking blond hair jutted out of the other boy's head in short spikes, save a few strands falling into his face.

"Er... Sorry, there, buddy. Didn't see ya..." Daxter spoke slowly as his cheeks tinted in his embarrassment. But the blond only stared down at him knowingly. Suddenly a familiar voice pierced his ears.

"Daxter! What are you doing out of class?" Short blue-green hair came into view as bright green eyes blinked at the red-head.

"Kiera? Well, I could ask you the same question!" he replied.

She chuckled, taking hold of a masculine arm connected to the blond. "I'm showing Jack around," she giggled, sending more than innocent glances the boy's way.

Daxter's brow frowned. He had to admit Kiera was a catch and a half, by this school's murky standards. But to see her throwing herself out like some window-order whor-- "Jack, huh?"

"Yup. He's a new student. See his name tag?" She pointed to a small white strip on his shirt.

Daxter squinted at the name. "Uh, I think you spelled that wrong, Hun," he said.

"Huh?" She suddenly noticed what he'd been seeing and giggled. "No, silly! That's how it's spelled!"

One of Daxter's eyebrows raised itself. "Reeeeally? Well, then I've been spelling it wrong my entire life."

Kiera burst into fits of giggles again. It was starting to get annoying. "No, silly! That's just how _he_ spells it!"

The red-head's eyes jerked up to the blond, who shrugged. Daxter shook his head. "Well, _Jak_, nice to meet you." He bowed slightly. The other boy seemed a little unsure, but nodded in response.

Suddenly Kiera spoke again; "So what _are_ you doing out of class, Daxter?"

He scoffed. "Nothing. Bathroom."

Kiera stiffened. "Oh! Well, sorry we got in your way... C'mon, Jak! I'll show you the gym next!" As the girl pulled at the blond's arm, Daxter watched them out of the corner of his eye. He noticed Jak look back at him and their eyes met. It would seem cliche, when he thought back to it later, but right now he swore he saw... Something. Something familiar. Familiar enough to make him raise his head and look straight at the guy. So familiar it felt like it was going to jump out and attack him.

Why did those eyes haunt him so?


	4. It's a Secret

CH.4 It's a Secret

Days went by. Weeks. Months. He didn't know how long. The time ran together, just like everything else. The days and nights were indefinable. His taste was gone. His thoughts far away, to a place he knew too well. A jungle place that seemed more like home than this concrete cage he was trapped in. With fresh air instead of the smoke and mildew he was forced to breath in now. A beautiful, comfortable place he wanted to go to. But why was he stuck here? Why was he left in such a dank, dark, evil place like this? This city where he was so small. Cornered everywhere he turned.

A rat.

He felt like a rat trapped in a cage. A little lab rat, trapped in a place he didn't want to be, exposed with nowhere to hide but his own mind. But sometimes they drug him even away from there, throwing him back into this harsh wilderness he was so unused to.

Everything repeated itself. A daze never ending. He wasn't sure where it began and where he ended. It was like running in a hamster wheel and never being let off the roller coaster it drove. His body ached everywhere. But it was such a small, mild pain that it didn't break through his barrier. Nothing did. Nothing but the absent thoughts and words and feelings and sights and sounds of the every day that he hated more than anything--

"Uh--"

And then there was Jak.

Somehow, once in a while, they'd meet in the halls. During lunch, before or after school, transferring classes. They never said a word, but in those short moments Daxter was woken up. When he looked into the familiar and friendly eyes of that boy it seemed they hid some undermining truth he was supposed to know... It unnerved him at the same time as invigorating him. Like he was perhaps supposed to figure this meaning out all on his own. He wasn't sure how he'd do it, but he knew he knew it, somewhere deep inside him. He just had to find it.

But, as with all meetings, they soon ended. The two were often hustled by each other before a few seconds was up, and when Daxter looked back the blond was always gone.

Always.

----------

Daxter sat, leaning against the corner of the building and watched the layers of clouds mingle. He wondered absently when Daniel would come out since he'd been waiting almost two hours. Usually he went on home. He couldn't explain it, but he wasn't afraid to walk alone anymore. He just... wasn't scared. It seemed more wasteful, now, to fear. Not that he cared. It didn't matter. Nothing really mattered. Nothing but...

Daxter's eyes suddenly caught a glint of metal. He wasn't sure why he payed any attention, since cars drove past the school all the time, literally. But when he looked down his breath caught in his throat.

Nearly a hundred yards from him, across the field and past the fence, strode the strangest thing that pulled his memory strings. A tall man, it looked like a man at least, was walking down the sidewalk, simply minding his own business. What stuck out was the bright crimson armor he wore, and the rather large gun he carried. It didn't look like any gun Daxter had seen, and he'd seen a few inside the school. The man also had long, slender ears protruding from the sides of his head, both protected with small bits of their own armor. This was what really intrigued Daxter. He couldn't explain it, but as he reached up instinctively to his own ears, he could have sworn--

Suddenly a door screech open. He turned to see a familiar blond stepping off the stoop with an even more familiar lady on his arm. Jak and Kiera.

Daxter turned back to the field, but the man was gone. He stood and peered farther down the block in both directions, but he'd simply... vanished. People seemed to be doing that a lot lately...

Another shriek of door jamb told him another had stepped out of the building. Tearing his pondering eyes from the street, he saw Daniel stepping out off the stoop. But the two prior occupants had disappeared.

Daxter shook his head as he picked up his bag by the small handle instead of the strap and trudged out from his hiding place. Daniel noticed his steps and looked up. The same old smile spread across his face.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you. What else?"

"Really? Well, you could have told me. I was in doing paper work."

The red-head shrugged. "No big," was all he said as he pushed one hand into his pocket and swung his old leather pack over his shoulder.

"So did you hear..."

And they went on. Daxter tuned out of his friend's endless chatter as he gazed one last time across the field of dead grass, hoping to catch a glimpse of the red man with the long ears. But all he saw were cars with faded or scratched paint jobs as they rolled down the broken streets.

----------

He tapped the pen repeatedly on his small oak desk. But it didn't click, but simply thud on the papers crowding the expanse.

A sigh made him look up at her. She leaned against the door frame. The door itself had been knocked out long ago.

"You should go home. Get some rest," she said.

He shook his head. "I won't get any sleep as long as that thing's out there."

"C'mon. We both know he--"

He rubbed his temple, waiting for her to leave. She got the hint and removed herself from her position. But, instead of leaving, she walked seductively to the desk and leaned on it, looking down at him. He tried not to notice the top of her shirt was open.

"You _need_ to get some rest. You'll only be a detriment if you're too slow to do anything."

"I'll be fine."

He regretted his words when she straightened, offense apparent on her round face. He ran a hand through his faded crimson hair, almost envious of his partner's bright locks.

"I'll take a break later, alright?"

She hardly looked agreeable, but the woman nodded.

"Make sure you do."

----------

Daxter listened as his finger brought a note out of the old, dusty piano. He touched another key and a broken sound emitted from it's gut. But it was still appealing, somehow.

"Here you go."

He turned and took the glass offered to him. Daniel slumped onto the old, flower-patterned love seat. Everything in his house seemed to be old and broken, in one way or another.

"Where's your grams?"

The boy shrugged as he gulped down the Coke. "Probably still at work."

Daxter scoffed. "Working? At her age?"

His friend pulled up his shoulders again. "What do you expect? She gets more money then she would from retirement. And we need it." To say the least.

Daxter pressed another key and this time a clean, crisp note met his ears. He almost smiled.

"Hey, if Grandma sees you fondling her old Bessie, she'll have a fit." Daniel laughed as he took another gulp of his drink. Daxter didn't even sip his own as he closed the piano lid.

A tall picture frame hung above the mantle shelf where the bricked-in fire place was. There wasn't a picture in it, only the backing. But it was a nice frame. At least at one time.

The cat-shaped clock ticked loudly from the kitchen. The air conditioner hummed and Daniel drank his seemingly endless Coke. Was something missing?

Daxter immediately turned to the foggy window and peered out, placing his Coke on Bessie.

"What is it?" Daniel asked.

"I heard something."

"Oh? Must be the neighbors."

Daxter waited. He knew it was there. He squinted his eyes. He could hear the sirens screaming down the street, the mocking sounds as they drove after some unnamed horror of the city streets.

There.

Without a second glance he dashed out the door, Daniel calling out behind him, and leaving his pack and Coke behind.

----------

He pulled out his gun. Motioning to the group around him, he kicked down the door, revealing a small apartment. The walls were white wash with the strange array of red spatters dripping down to the beige carpet. The smell of fresh death was strong as he moved through the home. He saw the body in the hallway, face down. An arm was missing, an one leg was bent grotesquely back, the bone jutting straight up, still bubbling with warm life-force.

A crash echoed from the bedroom at the end of the hall. He threw open the unhinged door almost too late to see the white streak falling with the glittering glass into the dusk covered city below.

----------

Daxter traced the streets under the old brick sky-scrapers. The back allies smelled of old garbage and urine, and the sound of moaning and rats and cars and normal city sounds were the only things to meet his ears. He didn't pay notice as he stepped on glass from an above broken window and kept through the back-way.

----------

It was cornered. But the ultra-human abilities it showed were too great to keep it for long.

She pushed the red dread locks from her eyes as she fingered the trigger and bit her lip. She could hear it scratching the brick lining as it searched for a way out. It hadn't noticed her yet.

She peered down the dank back road in search of her squadron. Where was he? He should have been here by now, damn it!

She took a deep breath, but it caught in her throat when she heard it stop searching. He heard her. There was only one thing left to do.

She spun around the corner and aimed.

Fire.

----------

Daxter stopped to catch his breath. His lungs burned as he leaned against a drainage pipe to steady himself. Gun fire echoed in the fresh night air but he didn't look up. You couldn't go a single night without gun fire in this part of the city.

Swallowing the dryness in his mouth, he stumbled forward, pacing up the block. He looked around and turned left.

----------

He pulled her up from the ground. She was unconscious, but apparently not hurt. His lips released a sigh of relief as he looked up at the red-clad guards. One was calling for backup, most of the others searching for clues in the dead-end alley.

She'd cornered it, and obviously wounded it. The blood trail would be easy enough to follow.

It was so close this time.

----------

Daxter stopped. He heard wheezing from around the corner. He barely tipped around to glance and saw a shock of white hair sprawled over hunched shoulders. The White Thing rocked gently back and forth, holding it's gut.

Daxter licked his lips and took a shaky step into the road. It perked, sitting so still it didn't even breath. It seemed to take an eternity for it to look back at him with one eye. Daxter swallowed hard as a sneer graced it's lips and the thing stood, turning to face him.

The air fled from him when the red-head saw the gaping, bloody hole in it's abdomen. He looked back to it's face and saw the sneer still in place. Blood was everywhere. Could a body carry so much blood?

He swallowed again and stepped forward. He put out a hand without thinking about it.

"Nice monster... Don't hurt me..." he whispered to himself.

Jaws snapped loudly at him before he'd even gotten close, and he pulled back. But the threat seemed too much for the beast, and it dropped again to it's knees. Crimson liquid flood from it's mouth as it coughed dangerously into the street. Before he knew it, Daxter was beside the beast. He touched it's back- It was warm. He rubbed it gently, whispering.

"Hey... it's ok... we'll get some help..."

He tried to stand but a strong, clawed hand held him fast by the arm. The White Thing looked at him through dark pools of shadow. The red-head could almost feel himself falling into the pits. They didn't even reflect light...

A nearby siren caught his attention and Daxter glanced up. A second look at the thing told him it wasn't going to make it. What was he supposed to do? Why did he want to? Why did his chest hurt like this?

He suddenly pulled off his school jacket and pushed it into the White Thing's stomach. He struggled to get it on it's feet, and pulled one muscled arm over his thin shoulders. It's head dropped as he pulled it out of the alley. He lived almost a mile from here. How was he gonna get it home?

----------

They pushed into the alley, guns at the ready. But it was empty. He found a large pool of blood to the left side, near the wall. But the blood trail stopped here. Where had it gone? Had someone come to clean up after it? He'd suspected it was part of some gang, but this soon?

Then again, those goons around the city were pretty good about cleaning up after themselves.

"Sir!"

He looked over to one of his men who stood at the end of the block.

"What is it?" he asked tiredly.

"More blood, Sir. It's scarce, but it keeps going."

He nodded. "Follow it. I need to get--" Who? "-- to a doctor."

The man saluted, his clunky armor hitting against itself. "Yes, Sir!"

----------

Crisp blond locks replaced the white strands on the pillow. Lightly tanned skin glowed in the yellow light of his lamp instead of the sallow, white, paper-thin organ that had been stretched across it's muscles and bones only moments before. Deep blue eyes were hidden under sunken eye lids as his breath came out shallow, but even.

Daxter dabbed at the wound again as he tried not to look at the face. It wasn't as bad as it had looked before. Or had he just healed, magically? The red-head twisted the cap back onto the alcohol bottle and pulled out a roll of bandages and a handful of packets of gauze. He pulled open the packets and laid the white strips across the torn skin and unwound the bandages, lifting the abdomen as he rewound it around the body's thin mid-section.

When he was finally done he surveyed his work. With a deep, heartfelt sigh he finally let his eyes flow over the body to the blank, restful face.

So it was him. It had always been him. No wonder...

Daxter looked down at his bloodied hands and stood, walking out into the hall and into the bathroom, turning on the tap. But a moment after watching the icy water streak over his stained hands, and the deluded crimson liquid drip into the drain, he realized it wouldn't be enough. He turned the focet off and closed the door.

His parents? Not home. Never home. He was alone. Save Daniel. And the man lying in his bed.

He pulled open the shower curtain and turned the _hot_ handle. He stripped, leaving his soiled clothes on the floor and stepped into the shower, closing the curtain. It took a bit for the water to warm up. But when it did he didn't bother turning on the _cold_ and simply stood as the scalding streams washed over him. When he finally couldn't take it anymore, he turned the knob and picked up the soap from the shelf.

It seemed to take hours for him to scrub almost all the color from his skin. The water was long turned cold, but he kept scrubbing. He's arms had gone numb from so much scratching. But his eyes kept seeing the blood, so he kept cleaning.

----------

The trail ended. Right in the middle of the street. Gone. Like the smog above the city. It had rolled in, and then just seemed to have disappeared.

"Maybe it took a taxi."

He rolled his eyes. Morons. Suddenly he scratched his chin. But what if someone had indeed helped it?

"Call every taxi in the city. Find anyone who picked someone up around here," he ordered. He was good at ordering.

And they were good at following, he noticed as the man saluted him and jogged off to the squad car to get the information to HQ.

This was going to be a long night.

----------

Deep blue eyes stared at him. They didn't flutter even for a moment from his face.

Daxter didn't even bother feeling self conscious. Why should he? It wasn't like he was being eyed down or something.

But he was naked, in the shower, and being watched. But he still wasn't feeling anything. Why?

Jak was slightly hunched as he held his mid-section absently with one hand and the curtain with the other. His eyes were half closed as he gazed at the red-head, thoughts forming in his mind but nothing coming to his mouth.

Daxter finally swallowed as he hugged himself tighter. "Um... Do you mind...?" he mumbled.

But Jak didn't move. He just watched him with intent, bright eyes.

Daxter tried to push himself farther into the wall when a tanned hand was placed at his side. But it didn't touch him. As Jak leaned in closer, he made sure not to touch him. He got a close as possible, not even a breath away. But he never touched him.

The red-head stared at the taller male in confusion. He hadn't gotten to know Jak very well in the short time they'd know each other, but this was peculiar, even for him.

He hardly noticed the touch. It was so light it barely registered as a touch at all. But it was still there.

Daxter closed his eyes as his tense muscles relaxed as he gave in. It wasn't that bad, was it? To simply go with it? Why fight it? It would only cause more problems.

What happens, happens. Right?

"Shh. It's a secret."

------

Well, thanks for reading. XD I know this is getting really confusing. I changed the story line after chapter 3 so it might get a little unothodox for a while. But hopefully we'll get back on track. XP

Thanks again for the reviews!! And if you have any questions, feel free to ask! But don't be surprised if I don't give a traight answer... X3


	5. Divine Intervention

CH. 5 Divine Intervention

Daxter stared at his friend tiredly as he tried to hold in a yawn.

"Up all night again?" Daniel asked irritably. Daxter could tell any answer he gave would anger the boy further.

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

"Did you find that thing you were looking for?"

"What thing?"

"The thing you raced out of my house for. The thing you left so fast for you forgot your back pack and didn't even call when you got home. I was worried, Dax!"

The red-head looked away as he rubbed the back of his head. "I said I was sorry... I was really tired when I got home and when to be--"

"But you couldn't sleep."

"That doesn't mean I wasn't trying."

"C'mon, Daxter. Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Then where did you go?"

"I told you, I saw something but it wasn't anything so I went home."

Daniel looked outraged by now. "Stop lying to me, damn it!"

Daxter sighed heavily and gazed out the dusty window. "It's your choice to not believe me."

With a grunt his friend stood and stormed to his seat, huffing. He'd brought Daxter's bag that morning, or more or less threw it at him, and it leaned against the red-head's chair.

Daxter kept his lips tightly together as the bell shrieked and the students filed in from the hall. His body ached today, especially his arms. He made a mental note to not scrub so hard next time.

----------

Her almond eyes glowered at him angrily. She was pacing in front of his desk and her shoes made a hard, clunking sound with each step.

"I can't believe you let it get away."

He massaged his left temple as he flipped through random papers, not really reading them. "A taxi picked him up. We've already confirme--"

"So what? You can find where he was picked up and dropped off, but why can't you find where he went after that?!"

He sighed in exasperation. "I've already told you. The blood trail stopped. Whoever was with him must have covered the wound."

"I risked me _life_ to bring that thing down, and you let it get away?!"

"Jesus, will you stop talking down to me?" he hissed. "Yes, you nearly got yourself _killed_. And for what? To stop a monster? You should have waited! Backup was onl--"

"Waited?! If I'd have waited any longer it would have gotten away!"

"It _did_ get away!"

She huffed again, taking back up her pacing. He ran a hand through his hair in agony. He hated arguing with her. But she was so thick sometimes--

"Where did the taxi leave it off?"

He looked at her without answering. "Your not going down there."

"Try and stop me. I'm going to find that thing. I'm--"

"Listen, I feel the same way. But we have a time window. If it's wounded it'll need time to heal before it attacks again."

She snorted. "And how do we know it doesn't heal faster than normal people? It seems to be able to do everything else a human can't!"

He stood, walking around the desk and stopped in front of her. "Please. I'm asking you to wait. Give us time." He very, very rarely used this kind of persuasion. But when her eyes softened he knew it'd worked.

"Fine. You've got three days."

----------

Daniel looked at him with betrayal in his eyes.

"I said we're going to the arcade. You can come with, ya know."

He shook his head. "I have work to do here."

Daxter shrugged. "Ok then."

"Dax--" The red-head looked at him quizzically. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure."

"In private?"

Daxter looked behind him to Jak, who shrugged with his hands in his pockets. He nodded, looking back at Daniel. "Ok..."

The boy lead him to the room off of the office, where he did the paper work he was assigned when helping the secretary as he so often did.

"Listen, Daxter," he began slowly. "I know you and Jak... have become friends and all. But..." He trailed off.

Daxter bobbed his head absently, every once in a while glancing toward the closed door. "Yeah. So? He's pretty cool."

"Yeah... But listen, Dax, I don't... I don't think that's such a good idea."

He raised a brow. "Huh?"

"Hanging out with him. I don't... trust him."

"What are you talking about, Dan?"

"Listen. I'm not saying he's a bad guy, really. It's just... I don't think... it'd be good for you to hang out with him."

"... Why not?"

"Just... a feeling."

Daxter snorted irritably. "So you've got a stomach ache and that means I can't hang out with friends if it's not you, right?"

"What?"

"You just can't stand that I've got friends other than you. That's it, isn't it?"

"What? No! I--"

"Oh, I'm just the stupid class clown with the big teeth. And you're the one who's s'posed to be the big, cool guy who comes in and befriends me _just_ because you're the nice one. Isn't that it?"

"Daxter, no, I--"

"Well, forget it, Dan. You can't judge Jak when you don't even know him!"

"You've known him for how long? How come you're such an expert?"

"'Cause I've known him longer than you."

"By what, two hours?"

Daxter snorted angrily and whisked around the other boy. "Whatever." Before opening the door he turned back. "Why don't you get over yourself, huh?" He turned the knob and slammed the wood frame behind him.

Jak looked at him in confusion as the red-head barreled from the office. Catching up, they speed-walked out of the building and down the drive, out the tall fences and down the street.

They were almost three blocks away before Daxter slowed and Jak followed suit.

A quick, gentle push on his arm comforted the red-head into speaking. "It's nothing." His voice showed otherwise, but he wasn't about to bring the blond into it.

They didn't stop in front of the bland arcade. Instead, they kept walking, nothing but silence and air between them. They wandered the nameless city streets, not even bothering to follow the side walks, cars honking for them to leave the streets as sirens and alarms bellowed in the distance. Or maybe it just seemed far away because the sound was so broken by the buildings.

Daxter distinctly remembered a lesson that sound waves turned and twisted around things. But he wasn't so sure. Since everything anyone ever said, whatever sound they made, somehow seemed to jut like a dagger into his brain and into his nerves. He twitched.

Jak's touch stole a glance from the boy, but they went on in silence. Two 'trouble making' youths running wild in town, just like all the others.

Two. That was a nice, even number.

It had always been two. Him and Dan. Dan and him. But it never seemed that way. Daniel was always doing this, talking about that. Never really paying so much attention to him. He was the nice guy, the guy old women liked because he helped them across the street, or children liked because he read to them at the library on Sundays. That was who he was. Who he'd always been, and who he'd probably always be.

But Jak was different. Jak was special.

Jak had a secret.

----------

Daniel glared at his stack of papers. His pen was not moving in his hand as he went over the thoughts in his mind. This was not going well. He only had a short time to force his friend to understand what he was doing. This was the biggest mistake he'd ever make. He was about to change the entire world, for the worst, and he didn't even know it!

Daniel growled as he threw his pen down. He'd tried so hard to show him a better way! After all his calculating and theories, but none of them were working!

He'd _seen_ him! He knew that boy was a monster! What he'd become! What he was going to become!

But he still didn't care. Why? Any normal person would have strayed, would have run, cowered in fear!

So why wasn't he? Why wouldn't Daxter run from it?

Daniel raised his dark eyes to the closed door as a thought entered his mind. He placed his chin in one hand as he did when he was deep in pondering.

He'd just have to use some divine intervention.

----------

Daxter tapped the button as he moved the small wand in his hand upward. The yellow dot on the screen turned a corner and the small white specks were disappearing. Jak watched intently over his shoulder. This was his last life, and he better make it count.

His eye flicked as he saw a speck of purple come from the side of the screen. But it was too late. PacMan was eaten by the purple ghost, and his last life was gone.

_Game Over._

"Damn it!" Daxter slammed his fist onto the game. With one last glare he spun on his heel. "C'mon, there's got to be somethin' better." He glanced around the crowded game room. Not so crowded with people, but the room itself was far too small for all the old game machines it housed. Daxter suddenly noticed one machine in the corner of the room with two black plastic chairs attached. He tapped Jak's shoulder as the blond studied the PacMan screen.

"Over there, c'mon."

Jak followed him as Daxter slid over one seat to the other, as it was against the wall. He smiled as he slid four quarters in, two for himself and two for Jak. "C'mon, get in."

The blond obeyed and studied the system for a moment. Daxter had already picked his car by the time he'd finally gotten to the screen.

A few moments later Daxter found himself once again glaring at a '_Game Over_' screen. He snorted and looked to his side. "Stupid game anyway... Holy--"

_2446739 _and still counting.

Jak's score was incredible. He was still driving, his Jeep gliding around the turns as he shifted gears mindlessly. Daxter leaned against the other chair to watch. The green vehicle's tires lifted from the ground as it flew over another jump. The score kept rising as Jak passed a red sports car, then a blue Jaguar.

"Wow..." Daxter looked up to see two girls looking past him at the screen. He looked back to the game, unconsciously envious of the blond.

Two laps to go. He was in first place, had been for the last two. His tires spun half-heartedly over the water, but he never lost control and virtual sand flew as he touched ground again. The jungle flashed by in undefined pixels of greens and yellows, ill defined men and women lined the road as the scene changed desert. Daxter's eyes flicked to the small map at the top of the screen. The other cars were almost almost a quarter of the track back. Then he noticed the score again.

_30087159_.

A whistle caught the red-head's attention and he looked up to see the man who worked behind the soda bar watching as well, along with the girls from before and almost a score of other by-standers.

"Well now. I played that just the other day, but couldn't break four K." Daxter ignored him and looked at the screen, his jealousy building. He hadn't gotten to three-thousand, let alone four.

Block-women with large breasts in bright purple two-pieces cheered along the highway. But Daxter didn't notice them as he tried to memorize Jak's movements. As a sharp turn in the track came he tapped the break, changing to second gear. Just before the straight-way he switched up again, pushing the gas to the floor. Murmuring behind him told the red-head Jak was rather good at this game.

Last lap, and he'd broken thirty-three million. He wasn't even sweating. Was it that hot in here? Daxter asked himself. He was damp under his clothes, his white button-up sticking to the skin on his back.

Jak was out of the jungle again, the desert home straight. The people still cheered endlessly, holding up wordless signs. The pixels flashed by in a flurry of bright, dusty colors as the Jeep drove at an ungodly speed down the endless parkway.

Suddenly the blue Jag from before pulled behind him. There was always a last drive in these old games when you got the high score. One car that suddenly appeared right behind you. But Jak didn't seem to notice as the Jag eased next to him. With sudden jerk that caused the crowd to jump, Jak pushed hard on his break.

The car spun off the road. A few people asked what happened. Another answered the Jag had tried to push him off the road. Another click of the gear shift and Jak had all but won the game.

----------

The boy had a blank look to him. Normal dark hair. Normal dark eyes. Normal tanned skin. Nothing interesting about him.

He was used to dealing with Interesting people. People that stood out in a crowd like a sore thumb. But this guy could blend into any crowd. He was just white enough, just black enough, just this enough, just that enough. He could be anything. Anyone.

So why was he talking to him?

"I heard you have information," he asked in a cold voice. The boy smiled casually.

"I do."

He nodded as he shuffled through papers on his desk, trying to look busy. "Alright, sit down," he ordered huskily. The boy obeyed, taking a seat in the folding chair in front of the disoriented desk. He finally stopped and put his hands together, looking at the boy. "What's your name?"

"Daniel."

----------

"I mean, holy cow, Jak! That was amazing!" He flung his arms wide as he spun around to look at the blond. "You were just, _vvvvvvroom_! And, _reeee_!!! It was _so_ cool!"

Jak chuckled as he watched the red-head attempt to make car noises as he turned his hands on an invisible wheel in front of him.

Daxter jutted a thumb toward himself. "I was bored so I threw my game, but I bet I'd have beaten your score. By at least half a mil."

Jak shook his head, smiling. But that's all he did. He didn't try to deny it, he didn't call him a nerd or a dork or an idiot or a retard. He just smiled. Silently. Like always.

Daxter pushed his hands deep into his pockets as they strode down the main drag. Coming to a corner with a stop light, they stopped, waiting for the white man to light up so they could cross.

The time seemed to drag on and on. Daxter stole a glance to his blond companion, who was mindlessly watching the world around him. Suddenly the red-head felt a little nostalgic, for some reason.

He perked and turned back to the street just as the red palm blinked off and the walking light came on. He smiled widely as he began talking again.

"You know, everyone was watching. You must have gotten the highest score they've ever seen or something." The blond smiled and listened intently. Daxter noticed his blue eyes flick down the street, but he paid no attention. "I think we should go back tomorrow. Then we could really sh--"

The hand shoved his back hard, throwing him forward as a terrifyingly loud screeching met his ears. The momentum pushed him far enough for two steps, his last catching on a crack in the road. His hands burned as they slid across the pavement, he bit his tongue as his chin it the cement. His knee had been the first to smash into the concrete, and it throbbed with pain as he rolled onto his side, pulling into himself for a moment over the pain.

As his mind cleared, anger consumed him and he pushed onto his rear. "What the Hell, Ja--"

He stopped.

The red car spun around the corner too late for him to notice it. His wide eyes stared unfocused at the road in front of him.

The body lay, unmoving. Not even the chest rose, showing signs of breath. No eyelash fluttered, no finger twitched. Just...

Nothing.

Daxter scuttled forward on his hands and knees. "O-oh my-- Oh God--" He looked down at the blond hair, matted to the tan skin of his forehead by the red gel seeping from seemingly nowhere. He looked asleep. His eyes were closed gently, just covering his ultramarine eyes, and his mouth was partially open, to allow air in.

But Jak wasn't breathing.

"C-c'mon-- Jak, say something! Jesus, just once--! **_C'mon!!!_**"

His hands fluttered over the blond's chest, never touching him. What if he hurt him more?

"Jak! Jak!! Open your eyes, buddy! God, Jak!!"

Mutters behind him turned him around. A small group stood at the corner, watching. Staring. Just... Staring. No one tried to help. They just stood there. Horrified. Horrified? They were repulsed yet did nothing?

The glint caught his eye. Daxter noticed a girl in the front with a pink cell phone by her ear. She'd probably been chatting away when she saw the accident and had forgotten all about whoever was on the other line.

Daxter jumped to his feet. She gasped and backed away when she realized he was heading for her. But he snatched the phone from her hand. She screamed at him but he ignored her as he closed the phone, ending the last call. Re-opening it as he raced back to his friend's side he dialed 911.

"_911 emergency, what's the problem?"_

"M-my friend was hit b-by a car--"

"_Where are you, Sir?"_

"Th-the corner of um--" He glanced around for a street sign. "M-maple and-- God-- Maple and Heret, Maple and Heret!"

"_I'm sending an ambulance, Sir. Please remain calm."_

"He's not breathing! Jesus, he's not _breathing_!" he cried.

"_Please remain calm, Sir. What's your name?"_

His name? She wanted his name? Who cared what his name was? What about Jak? Why didn't she ask his name?

"He's dying, oh my God, he's dying!!"

"_Sir, I need you to stay calm. A unit will be there shortl--"_

"That's not _soon enough_!!"

"_Sir--"_

Daxter let the phone drop from his hand as he leaned over the blond. "C'mon, Jak," he whispered. "C'mon! Breath, damn it, do _something!_"

But he just laid there. Unmoving. Unbreathing. He just... slept.

Daxter would have really thought he was just asleep. Just pretending. But the small trickles of crimson liquid gelling on his lips and nostrils told him otherwise.

Jak was dead.

------

Haha. Someone reviewed, "For gods sake, Jak. He's in the shower." XDD I about DIED laughing.

Well, since that was all funny-ha-ha, I decided once again to CHANGE the story line and make it all SERIOUS.

Bah. XDDD Thanks for the reviews people!! Me loves!! X3


	6. The Night in St Helen's

Ch. 6 The Night in St. Helen's

He looked down at the yellow strip of paper in his hand. He had to be kidding himself to trust a child.

_Thursday_

_2:13 AM_

_West St. Helen Hospital_

Who was he kidding? How was this kid going to know when that beast attacked again?

"So are you going to check it out?" she asked as the car paused at a stop sign.

He sighed. "It's the only lead we've got right now."

"So that's a yes?"

He remained silent. He was remembering the last crime scene. The man in the apartment had been Carlos Geraldo, the secretary of James Harking, the head of the Gains company representative comity. When they'd turned him over they saw the huge gashes in his chest where his insides were trying to fall out of his skin. He'd been torn apart by what appeared to be an animal. Even his cat hadn't been spared.

But he knew better.

This wasn't an animal. But it wasn't human. It was a monster. A white, deadly monster that had nothing better to do but tear innocent people apart.

They'd found papers in Geraldo's home resulting in several cases against Gains, including the illegal dumping of toxins in the Waikon pond, several missing persons reports, sweat shops, and unidentified monetary gains, just to name a few.

But the victim before Gerlado had been a family. A mother, her husband, two daughters and a son. The only one to survive was one daughter, six, who'd been thrown against a wall when the attack began and pretended to be unconscious. He didn't even want to think about the mental damages to her later in life.

He let out another sigh as he looked out the window. The wife had been a home mother and the husband a lawyer. One might thing the attacks were provoked by Gains, since the man had worked on a case with them six years ago. But none of the previous attacks consisted with this pattern. The previous victim had been a man working in a laundromat. The one before a homeless woman. The one before that an illegal alien from Mexico who sent money home once a month.

None of this was consistent. None of it seemed to be important to the killer. The only thing that seemed to matter was the hunt. The kill.

So how did this kid, this _Daniel_ know when the next attack would be?

His brows pulled together.

Was this boy connected to the killer in some way? Was it possible the monster had a day form like the rest of us? Was that how it had gotten away so many times?

Did Daniel know the killer personally?

"Where did he say he lived?"

"What?" she asked. The car had been so quiet only a second before. "Who?"

"That boy. Daniel?"

"Um, I don't know off-hand. But I have it on file at the station. Why?"

"I want to speak to him again."

"Have a eurica moment?" she chuckled.

He gazed out the window without answering.

----------

Daxter watched his chest rise and fall steadily, the sound of the heart monitor pulsing all the way to his bones, his heart soon following the rhythm. He breathed with him, holding his breath at the short intervals.

The blond lay peacefully on the bed, eyes closed, with a tube into his mouth. He didn't talk anyway.

The doctor had said he only had some minor internal bruising and bleeding. He was already stable, but visitations weren't allowed. So he lied. He'd said he was Jak's brother so he could sit here for six and a half hours watching him, waiting for him to wake up.

So he could smack him.

What the Hell had he been thinking?! Pushing Daxter out of the way like that and then going and getting _hit_ himself! Was he stupid?!

The door behind him clicked softly open and closed. A familiar head of aquamarine hair caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Daxter looked up to see Kiera standing just around the white curtain. She noticed him and forced a small smile.

"How is he?" she whispered as she took the empty chair next to the red-head.

He shrugged. "Stable," he whispered back. Why were they whispering? It didn't matter. Weren't they waiting for him to wake up anyway?

But it seemed taboo to speak in the shocking silence of the white room. Blue curtains hung from the windows in a futile attempt to give it some atmosphere. Daxter wished they wouldn't even try.

"I was terrified when I got the call. Daddy was worried too." Daxter nodded in false appreciation for her words.

The two watched the blond in silence for a long while longer. But the red-head was once again dragged from his thoughts when the girl spoke.

"You should go home," she said quietly. "Get some rest." Was she trying to get rid of him? Send him away so she'd be the one there when Jak woke up? Yeah, right! He'd saved _his_ life, Daxter's! Not hers! She had no righ--

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Dax..." she murmured as she looked at him with worried eyes. "You've been up so long. It's late."

"I'll be fine."

"... Dax, I know how you must feel--" _No you don't!_ "But he wouldn't want you to hurt yourself over this--" _Stop talking about him like he's not here! He is! He **is **damn it! He's gonna wake up in a little while, and he's gonna smile and pretend it never happened and I'm gonna yell at him for being stupid! Like always! Like **always**--_

"I'm fine, really. Don't worry about me." He looked at her with a masking smile on his face. But even she could see the heat in his eyes. "What's a nice girl like you doing up so late anyway?"

She stammered for an answer. Finally she settled on, "I couldn't sleep. I was worried."

"So why didn't you come down sooner?"

"I just heard--"

"From who?"

She paused. "A friend."

"Which friend?"

"Why are you interrogating m--"

"Which friend?" he repeated.

He tried not to feel guilty at the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly she stood, taking a deep breath. "Call me. When he wakes up."

"Sure," was all he said as he watched her nod and walk out briskly.

----------

_1:47_.

Half an hour to go.

Daniel pulled the cap lower to cover his face as a nurse walked by. He was going to stay this time. Make sure nothing went wrong this time.

He couldn't afford failure again.

----------

Daxter jerked awake. He pulled his arm from under his head and looked around tiredly. He'd fallen asleep?

His eyes suddenly cleared as he looked to the bed. The covers were stern about, half on the floor. The breathing tube lay lifeless on the floor, the IV liquids near empty and dripping onto the speckled tiles.

Jak was gone.

A blood curdling scream met his ears and Daxter jumped to his feet. He slid across the wet floor, hitting the wall. He propelled himself toward the open door. Catching the frame in his hand his breath halted in his throat and he was sure his heart stopped cold.

The white walls were coated in a thick gel of blood. Layers of it. You could tell from the hues, the dark red first, then a lighter color, and sometimes another splash just for effect. The floors weren't spared from this onslaught of bodily fluids either. Then entire hallway, to every corner he could have looked for, was at least an inch deep of crimson liquid.

Bodies, it seemed like a sea of them, arms and legs and torsos, mixed and matched like Lego's. They lay upon the floor, on chairs, on tables, out of doors. Just a few rooms down an old man took his last shaky breath as he watched with one eye as Daxter stared at the monster that had murdered him and his wife, the child across the hall, the mother a room down, and the pregnant woman in the next hall down. The monster that had killed Nancy. Derek, Marie, Lexus, Steven, and Hilda. All nurses. Nurses and doctors.

All dead.

But Daxter didn't even notice the man as he died three doors down, choking on his own blood. He didn't notice the walls. He didn't notice the floors or the bodies.

He noticed the monster.

Pale hair shocked his vision against the red around him. The dotted blue and white medical gown was dyed red and the white skin underneath made him look only half there. The small black horns protruded from the stark hair and long, dark claws were sunk deep into the throat flesh of a new body. But the head that should have been there was not. The pale bone, chipped and broken, stuck out of the bloody stump, as well as hundreds of tiny stringy veins that had slipped from the muscle as it was torn apart.

The death grip eased and eventually dropped the shredded corpse. The head barely moved for so long he thought it hadn't moved at all until the black pools were already gazing at him, the mouth twisted into a sneer exhibiting the red stained teeth ending in sharp points.

_Monster._

Before he'd been fooling himself. It had all been a joke. Just a joke. He could never care. A sick freak. A sick, sick monster consumed by hatred.

_Monster._

How could he have fallen for it? Those eyes showed it from the start. All it saw was death. Decay. Hurt. Pain. Nothing else.

_Monster._

He'd been so blind. So deaf, so dumb. He'd been denying it the entire time. But it was always right in front of him.

_Monster._

Before he knew it he was screaming. _Why, why did you do it?! Why?!_

The Thing was standing in front of him, laughing. Laughing. _Why? Why are you laughing?! How could you laugh?! How?!_

He clenched his eyes together as tight as he could, covering his ears. How was this possible? Why? Why was this happening?

The wetness touched him, his cheek. He opened his eyes. He saw a long, slender ear in front of his eyes. White. Hair tickled his cheek as a shoulder pushed into his trembling chin. It was touching him. Holding him...? The creature's thick arms wrapped around his thin frame as he felt the tongue lap again at his skin. He swallowed hard, but his mouth was dry as cotton, his eyes stealing the liquid.

_You blend in._

A pop echoed through the hallways and he was thrown to the floor, his back drenched, and he watched the White Thing summer-sault over him to land a few feet away. Daxter barely saw the man appear in the doorway. But he saw the gun. The bright black metal gleaming in the fluorescent lights as it appeared right above him. It still smoked from the last shot.

"Now you die," he heard.

Without a single thought, the red-head pushed himself off the floor and into the man above.

"_No!!!_"

The gun went off.

----------

Daniel checked his watch. 2_:37_. That was the thing about cops. Always late.

He peeked back down the hall from his position just behind the locked doors of the ICU.

Heh. ICU.

He chuckled at his own joke as he gazed at the red halls. Wasn't that boy awake yet? They'd been shrieking for what seemed like hours. He couldn't stand it any more. He knew Jak hadn't touched him when he'd woken. He knew better. But all this screaming-- You'd think it'd wake the dead!

Oops. Another bad joke.

Suddenly it caught his eye. There.

The smirk on his face vanished as he turned from the door. The elevator was on it's way up. The S.W.A.T. was in the stairwell. And Daxter was seeing his friend fall to pieces.

Just as it all should be.

----------

Daxter was thrown against a wall, the metal hook from the IV stabbing into his shoulder. He cried out as he grabbed his arm in agony, not only for the outside pain, but the inside pain as well.

Glass shattered in his ears as he collapsed to the floor. Cursing and shouting was everywhere. He'd let it escape.

He'd let it escape.

_Monster._

------

Ok um... it only goes downhill from here. XD We've got one- mayyyybe two- chapters left. If it's two the last one's pretty short...

Anyway, THANKS SO FREAKING MUCH for the reviews!! X3333 Loves sooooo much!!! I feel special... X333

I'm already almost to the end now, so don't get pissy if you don't like it lol. I know the ending sucks so badly. But hey, that's the story line. Oo You wouldn't really want to have a textbook ending after all this hard work making it wacko, would you? XP


	7. Dream

Ch. 7 Dream

He watched the boy from behind the glass. The red-head sat at the steal table on a folding chair with his head down and shoulders slumped, his hands cuffed in his lap. The dried blood was still on his clothes and face.

"He's just a kid," she murmured aimlessly.

"That's not an excuse," was his reply.

A small knock came to the door and he nodded for one of the recorders near it to open it. A woman with raven hair and tilted eyes walked in, her two-inch heels clicking on the concrete.

"Hi. I'm--"

"We know who you are," she replied. She didn't take the hand extended her. "This is my partner." She nodded to him. But he didn't turn away from the boy. He could only project all his hatred at him from behind the glass.

This close. _This close_.

They'd been _so_ close to finally catching that creature and this-- this stupid, naive, moronic _child_ had ruined it. All of it, all their hard work, down the drain.

And for what? They didn't know. The boy hadn't said a word since they'd brought him in. Not even his name. He'd just sat there, staring at the table like he was in some other world. Like he was pretending he was strong. Pretending it all hadn't happened.

But it _did_. And that wasn't an excuse.

----------

The woman opened the door and closed it behind her, heels clicking with every step. She sat down across from him and shuffled through the piles of papers in front of her. Finally, situated, she laced her fingers and looked at him with a mischievous look.

"Hello, there. My name is Rayn. I heard you got yourself into a spot of trouble."

He didn't answer.

"Well, I'm here to help in any way I can, ok? But I need you to cooperate with me too, 'k?" She waited for any sign of an answer, but when non came she went on.

"Ok, well, I'm going to have to ask you a couple of questions. It shouldn't take long, I'm sure." She paused again. "Well, we'll start off with this: What were you doing at St. Helen's?"

He didn't answer. He didn't need to. It didn't matter.

"... Alright... How about, your name? Yes, that's a good place." She waited. "Sir?" She snapped her fingers under his eyes, but got no response. Finally she sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Alright. We can play that game, too."

----------

The darkness was so strong. It pressed in on all sides, the silence burning in his ears. Why did he hate the quiet so much, why?

That's why it brought him here in the first place. His breathing was soft, not like the others. They were too strong, too strong to last too long.

But he was just right. Not too big, not too bad. Just right. Not threatening enough. Just right.

Why couldn't they understand? He was trying to _help_. He was taking the pain away. When it was all over there would be no more pain. So why couldn't they understand? Why did they hunt him so?

"My, my. Look how the graced have fallen."

He'd heard the steps but hadn't bothered to move. His charcoal eyes saw everything from every angle, and he could see the boy just right. Dark hair. Dark skin. A smile on his face as he laughed.

"You sure have fallen quite a ways," he said.

_Why are you here?_

"Why? Why, I wonder. Think about it. It's over. It's all over now."

_It will never be over._

"A simpleton could only think so." He saw the reflection of metal in the dark.

"It ends."

----------

His legs pumped hard against the concrete, the buildings flashing by in mutated pixels of black and blue, yellow and white in the street lamps.

A whole day. They'd kept him nearly a whole day in that room.

A chill shot through Daxter's spine as he remembered the blinding light and inhospitable scene. Why did it remind him so much of something? What was it? _Why?_

He didn't know where he was going. He just ran. Ran away. Away from those-- those _things_. Those _people_.

They'd released him when they couldn't hold him any longer. Setting him right outside the door and uncuffing him, and watching as he turned and ran.

He still ran. So hard his lungs burned as they threaded air into his veins, the same veins he'd seen just a short time ago from another person.

As they'd walked him out of the hospital in handcuffs, he'd made the mistake to look down. He'd seen the head that had been missing. A middle aged woman with curled brown hair stuck tight under her cap. Her chocolate eyes were wide and dripping with blood. Did so much really come from a human? Beside her head he saw a glint in the gelling fluids. A small gold locket hung around her ears, thrown with it from the momentum. The locket was open, half drowned in the sludge. But one small picture was still safe, still showing the world the inside of the woman's heart like no amount of tears or shredding could ever hope to.

A little boy. No more than five, he smiled with his hand half cut out of the tiny picture. His eyes were the same color as the woman's.

The very same.

Daxter pumped his legs harder as he willed to forget. Willed to not have seen that picture, to not have dropped then, vomiting his heart and tears to mingle with the blood of the damned, to not have shook and wept in front of them.

But he had. And it didn't matter. They still blamed him. If he'd been awake to stop him-- If he'd not called _911_--

What was he saying? Jak was alive. Alive, damn it! That's what mattered! No matter what anyone said!

It wasn't Jak! _Jak_ wouldn't do those things! Not _Jak_! _No!!_

"_**AAHHH!!!"**_

The pain shot through him and thrust him forward. He could have heard the shot if he were listening close enough. The lamp post caught his shoulder, halting him, and the red-head fell to his knees in agony, clutching tightly his chest.

He cried out again in pain as scalding tears rolled down his frozen cheeks. It was always so cold at night. So cold...

Daxter swallowed hard as he gulped in the stabbing night air. Finally the pain subsided to a dull ache where his heart was. He lifted his head and gazed around him with scared, tired eyes. He grasped the lamp pole and grunted as he pulled himself back onto his uncooperative legs. They shot with pain, every nerve stinging wither every knifing step. But he moved forward. Where? He didn't know, or care. But his pain pulled him further. Deeper into the cursed city.

He limped for blocks, for miles, his left arm hanging lifeless and numb. But he kept moving, kept going on because there was something-- _someone_-- he had to find.

The choked cry almost missed his frozen ears completely. His breath caught and he pushed himself from the walls he'd used for support and across the road. He stopped at the entrance to the subway. It was dark at the end of the stairs, and fear pulled him away. The city was too quiet, the lamps light fading around him. The darkness setting in.

He took one last deep breath.

Daxter stepped gently, quietly down the cement stairs. When he reached the bottom he pushed his foot around to make sure it was the end, and he walked forward, keeping to the wall.

He heard something.

The red-head stopped and listened. Had he? Or was it just his imagination?

There it was again.

_What is that?_

Daxter pushed from the wall and got to his hands and knees, feeling before himself. It seemed like he searched for hours, the darkness never relenting. He almost didn't notice when he finally touched it.

Cloth. Hard from dried saturation.

He swallowed hard again as he mouthed a single word, his voice not cooperating.

_Jak?_

His trembling hands pushed a little more, finding an arm, connected to a chest, a neck-- and a head. He swore he felt long, slender ears; but he couldn't tell. He didn't care.

Daxter knelt over the head, his fingers running over the smooth skin and grooves-- the lips, nose, closed eyes and eyebrows. It _was_ him. He leaned in close, his own ear to his friend's nose, and his listened.

The faintest of breaths was evident, ticking his skin. He leaned in close to the chest, with his fingers on the blond's neck. The pulse was short, but even. Light. Hardly there. But still there, none the less.

Suddenly Daxter raised his head in realization. Another set of even, calm breaths met his ears.

"You just don't give up."

Daxter closed his eyes.

"Why are you doing this...?"

"I'm trying to _protect_ you! Why can't you see that?! He's a _monster_, Daxter! A--"

"_I don't care._"

He listened as Daniel's breath caught in his throat. He heard him take a step back. "Why...?"

"... It's not his fault."

"What?"

"Jak is still Jak." He swallowed. "Monster or not."

He heard a loud clang on metal as if hit the floor. "_This can't be happening..._"

Daxter opened his eyes. Suddenly the dark around him wasn't so strong. He looked down to see Jak's eyes partly open and watching him closely. When the boy saw him, a small smile crossed his lips. What was he saying?

The scratch of something and Jak's eyes flickered past Daxter. Not but a second later the barrel of a hand gun was pushed into the back of his head.

"I'm trying to _help_ you!!"

"That's not your job anymore."

A swift intake of air in the dark behind him explained he'd hit a nerve.

"_It **is **me job!! You don't do it!!"_

"I don't have to."

Suddenly he remembered. He remembered everything.

He reached behind him, taking hold of the end of the gun. Turning his head slowly, he smiled to the boy behind him. "It's your turn to take a break."

Daniel's face was twisted in pain and fury. **_"NO!!" _**he shrieked. He threw the gun from him, clutching his head in his hands and collapsing into himself.

The room rumbled. Daxter looked around him at the dimly lit room as it began to crumble. His eyes jerked from one crack to another. The floor pushed up against itself, jutting out like spears and screeching as it rubbed against itself. The walls breaking in the center from the crumbling ceiling's weight. The air was hard as steel, sharp as daggers as it stabbed into his lungs. The ground beside him crumbled--

He gasped as he saw it wasn't there. No ground, no Jak. Nothing but darkness. But beyond the darkness he could see eyes. Hundreds-- thousands of eyes watching him. Mouths screaming in agony. Hands reaching for him--

A scream met his eardrums so loud it hurt everywhere. He covered his ears, trying to block it out. But it only seemed to get louder. He felt strong hands shaking him forcefully, bruising his arms. He tried to fight them, clenching his eyes shut. But they were too strong. And he was weak-- so weak. Was that why Daniel was trying to protect him? Because he was weak?

He couldn't blame him. He'd always just tried to look out for him. But he'd taken it too far this time. He had.

Finally Daxter released himself, letting the arms shake him awake. He just wanted to wake up, to leave this horrible city and never return. This horrible, blood sucking, innocence beating--

Daxter's breath caught in his throat as his eyes blinked open, adjusting to the harsh light. He was sweating, his blanket sticking to his body. His breathing came out in gasps as his chest rose and fell heftily.

A shocking head of long, spiked blond hair sat before him. It faded to an apple green at it's roots. Deep blue eyes stared at him in horror, in worry.

Daxter took a deep breath as he looked around him. The yakkow curtains twisted in the breeze entering his window. The wood frame room was small, but cozy, with his clothes muddled about and a desk in the corner with a mirror on it.

Daxter looked back at the blond in front of him, who raised a single eyebrow in question.

He smiled lazily.

"Bad dream."


	8. Epilogue

Ch. 8 Epilogue

Jak looked at him and sighed, shaking his head. Daxter rubbed his own.

"What?" he mumbled grumpily. Jak suddenly stood. A motioned for the red-head to get dressed. Daxter didn't move as he pouted. "What? But it's early, Jak!" The blond rolled his eyes and picked up a tunic from the floor, throwing it at him and catching his head. Daxter pulled the clothing off and glared at the blond as Jak smirked.

He threw the shirt back at him, but missed. "Get out!" he hissed. "Go on!" Jak rolled his eyes and suddenly pointed out the window. Daxter followed his finger and saw a clear view of Misty Island. He suddenly jumped from the bed. "Holy-- That's right! Why didn't you wake me up earlier?!" The blond rolled his eyes as he watched his friend search his piles of clothes for something wearable.

Daxter noticed this but didn't bother feeling embarrassed. They'd seen each other in their boxers too many times to feel anything like that. But he pointed to the door. "Do you mind?" Jak put his hands up in surrender and turned to the door, walking through it.

Daxter waited until he was gone and threw the mess about the room, looking for something less wrinkled than the rest. Suddenly he remembered his closet and ran to it, pulling out a clean tunic and over shirt. He pulled a pair of pants from a drawer in the desk and pulled them on. Gazing in the mirror he made a few last-minute touch ups and combed back his long crimson spikes.

Something in the corner caught his eye. A small photograph, not bigger than his palm, was stuck in the corner of the mirror. Setting down his comb, he gently plucked the picture from it's place and gazed down at it. A small pain jumbled in his chest as he saw the two small children in the picture. A tiny red-head with spikes, missing two front teeth, smiled with an over-sized grin at the camera. Beside him stood a boy only slightly bigger than he, with plain brown hair and dark skin. He waved at the camera in an exaggerated motion, part of his hand getting cut off by the edge of the picture.

Daxter's lips turned upward in a small grin as he remembered the boy beside him. He'd been here before Jak, long before. They'd never met. And they'd never meet. Daxter's smile faded as he remembered what became of his old friend. He'd moved. Just North of Rock Village. In the beginning they'd sent letter, constantly. But soon the letters slowed, then stopped completely. The last news of him he'd gotten was of his sickness. Something incurable, he'd heard. He'd been horrified for a long time, until the end with the last letter from there, only half written.

But life gets in the way like that, he reasoned as he replaced the photo in it's place. He couldn't let something that happened so long ago interrupt his life now. He had things to do. Rules to break. Daniel had tried to keep him afraid of the bad things in the world. But he couldn't let the things that scared him stand in his way. He'd just send Jak to clear them off.

A sharp knock on his door frame made him turn around. Said blond was standing with his arms crossed, looking bored. Daxter waved him off. "I told you to wait outside! Now go, will ya?!"

Jak sighed, shaking his head again as he left once more.

Daxter turned back to the mirror. With one last look at the picture, he finished combing his hair and pulled on his goggles, making sure they were just right, not making his hair stick out funny. Licking his fingers he smoothed out his eyebrows.

He looked at himself, turned about, and looked again. Perfect.

With a last rub down of his teeth, he kissed the mirror for luck left the room.

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Well, that's all folks. Told you the ending stunk. XDD;;

Well, even if you didn't like it, please tell me what you thought!! It'd make me sooo happy!! AND THANKS FOR READING!!


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